


An Unexpected Catch

by isaytheenay



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaytheenay/pseuds/isaytheenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan, a bounty hunter working for William Stryker, is hired to go after a young man named Remy LeBeau, a renowned thief who's causing more trouble than he's worth. Hired to track him and bring him back alive, Logan goes after the ‘White Devil’ to make him pay for his crimes. When he finally manages to get the damned Cajun to sit still and listen to him for five seconds, the entire hunt takes every possible turn Logan never expected. Mostly for the worst… some of it for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stryker often thought about why his best men were always the most difficult. Victor Creed, always his first option, could however be a bit of a loose cannon. When it came to bounty hunting, Victor did whatever he felt necessary to bring the target back. That could be from shooting him dead without breaking a sweat or taking whatever mutilated remains were left of him and tossing them into a body bag. He never failed to take care of the target, but the odds of the target coming back alive were sometimes slim. Stryker tried to reason with him, but it could be difficult trying to reason with a man who took genuine pleasure in hunting and (sometimes literally) dragging the target back to base.

David North was already out of the question. Stryker knew him to be a loyal missionary, excellent with a gun, and he’d have sent him in a heartbeat. However, he was already out hunting another man who took much higher precedence. Stryker, dreading it greatly, moved on to his next option.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, not wanting to do this. Logan was honestly a last resort for him anymore. Both in part of his general distaste for Stryker, accompanied with the slim chance that he actually took a job. Of course he had plenty of other men who he could send out for his target, but there wasn’t anyone who could do what Logan did. He was the best at hunting and finding who needed to be found. If the target was needed alive, he always followed up. Unfortunately for Stryker, he didn’t do it for the money like everyone else. His desire to hunt was really only when the mood struck him.

Stryker’s target was becoming a problem. He was a thief, world renowned and an expert at what he did (namely, being a pain in the ass). He stole and cheated people when no one was looking. Now, he was just a large enough problem that even Logan seemed tolerable to get him taken care of.

He leant back in his seat as the truck neared the very remote cabin in the woods. Normally he’d have found Logan at his ‘normal’ job, but the other workers said it was his day off, so he took the most dangerous option of all: walking right up to his front door.

He ordered the driver to stop a few hundred feet back from the porch, spotting movement in the front window. He remained in the car, waiting silently, watching as Logan emerged. A cigar between his teeth and a rifle poised in his hands, he glared at the intruding vehicle, clicking off the safety. He was a man of solitude, and he intended to keep it that way. Stryker stepped out of the car, a file in one hand and the other left open, facing Logan to show he wasn’t carrying anything else. He raised them over his head, waiting before speaking. “Logan, we need to talk.”

“About what?” He called back, his tone hardly welcome.

“I have a job for you,” he waved the folder a bit, now walking towards the house. Logan’s grip tightened on the rifle.

“I already have a job.”

“This one can cover your expenses for a year with some leftover, Logan. Maybe enough to fix up your motorcycle.” He looked over to the hand-built garage that housed Logan’s prized possession. When he’d come about halfway between Logan and the truck, Logan stepped down the front porch, his rifle lowered, but still at his side. Stryker stopped in his tracks, lowered his arms and waited, letting Logan come to him.

Stryker eyed him carefully, his gaze wandering up and down his figure, watching his every movement as he approached. Logan could scrutinize him as much as he wanted; it was all a part of gaining his – however brief – trust. Once they were mere feet away, Logan stared right into his eyes for a long time, only looking down at the file when his rifle was barrel-first in the dirt. “Say I take this job,” he proposed after a long silence, taking a deep drag of his cigar before breathing out the smoke. Stryker ignored it as it came billowing in his face. “What would I have to do?”

“You need to find this man,” he held out the folder. “He’s wanted in a few states already. He’s a thief, mostly found in New Orleans. He’s too dangerous to keep in a cell anymore, and the man wants him captured alive. Probably to make him pay for his crimes.” He passed the folder to Logan, who opened it and flipped through the first few pages. Just the customary information, either from the government or other sources Logan couldn’t be bothered to ask about.

Logan’s eyes went through all the information, No parents, no siblings, no place of residence. Thievery and escape were among the most numerous accounts of his crimes. He flipped to the next page, his eyes widening in surprise at what he’d reportedly stolen: at least twenty cars started, followed by a rough estimate of the millions of dollars in cash he’d stolen. His damage cost was substantial as well, and there was an even longer list of various technologies and artifacts he’d managed to snatch during his career. The list continued on the next page, stolen jewelry and a few ‘confidential’ reports filed as well. Logan had to hand it to the kid; it was a mighty impressive list. Next page was the only on-file arrest report, clearly many years old. According to the given date of birth, he was born twenty-three years ago, yet in the report, he was apprehended at fifteen years old. The first thing Logan spotted in the mug shot was his eyes: pure red, surrounded by a pool of black. His hair was coppery red, a unique color Logan hadn’t seen before. He’d be easy to spot if one looked hard enough.

“This picture is all we have, when he was first taken in.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. “What about all these other crimes?” He flipped back to the previous pages, gesturing to the exhaustive list of stolen items. “You mean to tell me that this kid’s been runnin’ around, stealing all kinds of things for years and only been caught _once_?” He looked up and waited for Stryker to talk.

“He’s learned how to get away pretty quick. Any time he was ever caught – and there are only four accounts of him being caught in the act, mostly when he was just getting started – he fled before anyone could stop him.”

“How do you even know it’s him, then? I’d say about ninety-five percent of the time, you don’t have any proof that it’s him stealing these things.”

“I don’t question the objective of the job, Logan,” he said, holding his gaze. “Doing what the client has asked without any questions is our job.”

Logan was silent for a long moment. He looked up at Striker, back to the folder, and quickly closed it. “Not interested.” He shoved the folder against his chest and turned around, quickly striding back to the cabin, gun propped up against his shoulder.

“Logan, wait!” He jogged after him. “Logan, I need you to do this; you’re the only one who can get it done!”

“What about your other dogs?” He didn’t even look at him this time. “Victor and your trigger-happy sidekick can’t get it done?”

“They’re unavailable,” he said. “He’s wanted alive, and you’re the only one I can count on to do that.”

“Don’t get too attached to me, Stryker.” Logan said with a growl, walking up the steps of his porch, intending on walking inside his home and shutting the door in his face.

“Logan, I’ll double my offer if you’ll take it.”

Logan looked back at him with exasperation. “Even _you_ can try harder than that.”

Stryker stopped in his pursuit just before reaching Logan’s porch, his shoulders slumping as he sighed in defeat. “… You really won’t take it?”

Logan cracked a smile. “Now you’re catching on.” He opened the door to his house and set the gun just inside the door, walking inside without a single goodbye.

Stryker was silent before he nodded slowly. “Well,” he said nonchalantly, shrugging and turning around, “I guess Victor won that bet.” Slowly, he walked away from the house, listening intently. He didn’t let his smile show when he heard Logan’s steps go still. Now he had his attention.

“… What bet?”

He feigned an innocent face, looking back at Logan. “Oh, well, Victor and I made a bet. He said you wouldn’t take the job, and I said you would.” He shrugged again, walking towards the truck again. “Turns out he was right.”

Logan bit down on the end of the cigar, growling beneath his breath. The thought of Victor, sneering in victory, made his blood boil. Despite them being only half-brothers, the sibling rivalry was still alive and well between them. He had a hunch that Stryker was only saying it to get him to take the job… but, god damn him, it was working. Sometimes Stryker was a hard man to read, but he wasn’t willing to take the chance on Victor having his little victory. Begrudgingly, he cursed beneath his breath and rubbed his face with his hand. Was he really going to do this? “New Orleans?” He called after him, refusing to meet his gaze.

Stryker looked back again, now stopping in his tracks. “That’d be the one.”

Logan sighed, deep resentment filling him as he asked, “Bring him back alive? Any means necessary?”

He nodded. “Yes.” He watched in silence as Logan cursed again, placing his hands on his hips as he regrettably approached him. With a glare, he snatched the folder from Stryker’s hands and opened it up, glancing the information over again.

“Remy LeBeau?”

Finally, Stryker allowed a smirk. “That’d be the one.”

Logan closed the folder, turning back to walk up the porch to his house again. “One month, tops.”

Stryker smiled wryly, folding his hands behind his back and walked back to the car. Sometimes Logan was a hassle, but once you learned how to work with him, he wasn’t so bad.

\--------------------

Despite how annoying they were, the large crowds of New Orleans really did make his job a little easier. He drove in, barely noticed, and pulled into the first parking spot available. Now all he had to do was find this guy and bring him back to Stryker so his client would pay him and in turn, make Stryker leave Logan the fuck alone.

He had a feeling that in this type of crowd, he wasn’t going to find Remy immediately. He was already five days into his job, but he had plenty of time. Besides, the kid couldn’t be that much trouble, could he?

He stepped out of his car after he parked, slipping into a bar on the nearest corner, sliding through the patrons and making his way to the back of the building. He sat himself in a dark corner near the edge of the bar counter, ordered himself a beer, and drank. He had to figure out a plan on how to corner this kid and keep him contained long enough to make it back to Stryker’s headquarters in Pennsylvania. Why he was taking Remy there, he didn’t really ask. He’d taken a few targets there before, so this wasn’t news to him. He pulled out the folded up file papers from his back pocket, flipping through them again.

First of all, the kid was fast if he’d escaped capture so many times. He probably worked by night and knew his way around alarm systems, so that was a clear sign he was intelligent, too. He could escape with ease and slip through anyone’s fingers; and apparently, that was probably a lot of people, if Stryker was the one bringing him in. Of course, ‘escape’ didn’t always mean ‘without a fight’, so Logan didn’t have a single doubt in his mind that this guy was trained in self defense in some way or another.

It was going to be a tough catch, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d faced a lot worse in the past, and he had the scars to prove it. One way or another, Remy was going to go with him back to Pennsylvania, whether he liked it or not.

\--------------------

The first time they met, it certainly wasn’t pretty.

It was Logan’s third night in New Orleans, and he hadn’t heard a single thing about Remy or seen any sign of him. He was beginning to wonder if he’d left already, but there was a gut feeling Logan had that maybe he was still here. Logan’s instinct was usually right, so he did just what it told him to do. He kept a sharper eye out, listened closely, and asked around a few times, even though if people knew they probably wouldn’t him. He figured Remy didn’t exactly parade around his presence.

So, when Logan was in a bar, keeping to himself and drinking a beer, he never expected Remy to literally burst in through the doors and start speaking in French to the bartender who immediately grinned, filling up a glass of bourbon and sliding it over to him. He hugged a few men who approached him and patted their backs appreciatively, grabbing his drink sitting down in the corner of the bar. He began talking animatedly, his arms waving wildly as he told them about something Logan simply couldn’t understand.

Right, so maybe he paraded around during the night.

Nevertheless, Logan remained quiet, only looking towards Remy on occasion. Once their eyes had met, and Logan quickly looked away, drinking his beer to keep himself occupied. It was a stupid mistake and he knew it too; he tried not to be overly paranoid, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Remy was already aware that he was watching him closely.

Nearly two hours had passed, and Logan wondered how in the hell Remy had so much to say to these guys, who were so intent on listening to every word he had to say. There was a point when one of the guys had passed something to Remy, and Remy took it, looking at it before stowing it in one of the pockets on his jacket. Logan wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t think much of it, especially since they were all standing up again. Remy eventually came up to the bar again and handed over some money – the bartender tried to refuse but Remy insisted – and then turned again. Logan paid for his drinks as well and gave a generous tip, nearly giving a sigh of relief as he saw the men walk out the front, and Remy headed towards the back exit.

Logan moved, following him out into the back alleyway that opened into a quiet street. It didn’t take long for Remy to turn around and sigh, finally speaking to Logan for the first time. “Y’know, if you wan’ Remy’s number, you can jus’ ask. Don’ gotta stalk him.”

Logan’s brows drew together. “What?”

“Oh… So you don’ want Remy’s number?” He blinked, looking honestly surprised. “Dat’s a first.”

Logan shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here; we need to talk.”

Remy held his gaze for a long time, eyes narrowed. Logan knew he was already deemed a threat by him. Trying to take a safer route, he held up his hands and took a few steps forward, but Remy took just one back. Logan stopped. “Remy don’ know who you t’ink you are, but dere was plenty of time to talk in de bar.”

“Didn’t want to intrude on whatever you and your friends were talking about—”

“Could’ve just come up to us, Remy wouldn’ have minded, ‘cept now you’ve waited til it’s just you an’ Remy, an’ dat don’ make dis Cajun feel very good.”

“Look, kid, I just wanna talk—”

Out of seemingly nowhere, Remy reached into his coat and pulled out a small instrument; one that, with a flick of his wrist, extended into a long staff. “Remy know what ‘jus’ wanna talk’ means. He ain’ stupid, mon ami.”

So, he’d probably had a few attempts made on him before. Had Stryker ever sent anyone else after him? “You’ve got it all wrong, okay? I’m just—”

“Remy. Ain’. Stupid. He knows why yo’ here.”

He dropped his hands, groaning in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, can I get a full sentence in?”

Now, Remy smirked. “Non.” He stepped forward and pointed the staff directly at his chest. Logan stood his ground, not letting Remy’s warning get to him. “Remy don’ wanna hear you givin’ excuses now. He’s heard plenty befo’. We don’ need to talk, we don’ need to discuss anyt’in’, ot’er dan what directions you gon’ need to de nearest hospital if you keep persistin’.”

“Well, hate to break it to ya pal, but I’ve really gotta sit you down and get you to listen to me. And if that means you’re gonna become a hassle, then I guess I’m gonna have to deal with you like one.”

Remy grinned, mocking Logan. It made his blood boil. “Do yo’ worst.”

With a shift in his stance, Remy swung the staff, narrowly missing Logan’s head by mere inches. Logan had ducked down and lunged forward, knowing that Remy wasn’t going to go down easily. As if anticipating that Logan’s next move, Remy altered the Bo’s path as he twirled it in his hands, managing a sharp blow to his shoulder. He jumped aside, increasing the distance between them, getting into another defensive stance. Logan cursed as he rubbed his shoulder.

“You had enough now? Remy don’ got all night.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “What, you think I do?”

“Got enough time to stalk Remy in a bar fo’ a few hours, sure,” he said with a shrug.  When Logan growled and stood up straight again, he moved towards Remy again and ran right into the path of his Bo, just as he hoped. Instead of blocking the attack, he reached out for it and grabbed the staff, tugging sharply and catching Remy off-guard. He pulled back, but Logan refused to let go, and after a brief struggle, Logan finally overpowered him and pulled, the staff slipping out of his hands and flying a ways away. He grabbed Remy’s arms as soon as he was sure the staff was far out of reach, gritting his teeth as he struggled furiously.

Remy twisted and pulled in his iron-like grip, shouting at him. “Let ‘im go!! Let Remy go righ’ now, you son o’ a bitch!!”

“Yeah, that’s getting’ off on the right foot…!” Remy was much stronger than he’d actually anticipated. He tried to throw Logan off balance, and it’d nearly worked, but Logan quickly gained the upper hand and kicked Remy’s leg out from underneath him, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Remy’s shoulder collided with the ground sharply, but he didn’t for a moment stop his attack on Logan. He reached up and clawed at Logan, kicking wildly beneath him and writhing uncontrollably. Logan could barely get a grip, the kid slipping through his fingers like smoke. He just about had a hold on him when Remy landed a solid right hook on his jaw, swiftly bringing the taste of blood to his mouth. He reached behind him, cursing loudly when Remy took the chance to flip them over again. The kid roared in rage at Logan and pulled his fist back, but froze on the spot when he heard a familiar clicking noise. Logan’s pistol was pointed right at his head, point-blank range.

Neither of them made a move. Still catching his breath, Logan kept his eyes lock on Remy’s. They stared right back, narrowed in a challenge. “What you waitin’ fo?” Remy asked, still a little breathless.

Logan tightened his grip. “I’ll use it if I have to.”

There were a few moments of silence before Remy laughed. “No you won’.”

He was right, and they both knew it. Logan needed him alive, but Remy was relying more on Logan’s morality, rather than his mission. Taking his chance, Remy proceeded right where he left off, drawing his fist back and swinging it down. Logan pulled the gun towards himself and shifted to barely avoid Remy’ punch, his free hand grabbing Remy’s wrist and using the force of his motion to shove him off. Just as he thought, Remy jerked on his arm when he realized Logan hadn’t let go, pulling as hard as he could and using whatever strength he had to get free. Logan flipped the gun in his hand and tugged on Remy’s wrist,  making him twist onto his stomach, ignoring the French he was shouting at him. Logan crawled over him from behind and pinning him down with his weight, the Cajun’s arm now being twisted up behind his back. Without hesitation, Logan promptly swung the grip of the gun down against the back of Remy’s head, and the shouting finally stopped. Remy went still immediately.

He stared down at Remy, patient, pressing the barrel of the gun against his skull. He waited a minute, certainly not putting it past this guy to have faked being knocked out. He reached back behind himself with one hand and took a zip tie from his back pocket, slipping it around his wrists and securing them together. He frowned, then slipped on a second tie. At least he’d feel better about it.

Groaning, Logan moved off to one side of Remy and rolled him over carelessly. Now that the adrenaline had passed, he was really feeling the aftermath of the fight. His shoulder ached and his jaw was throbbing painfully. The kid could definitely deliver a strong right hook. He was a lot more than he appeared, something Logan would keep in mind on the way back. He reached over to pick him up and carry him back to the hotel, but stopped. He had no idea what this guy could be armed with. He glanced at the staff; if something so seemingly small was stowed away in his pocket, then god only knew what else he could be hiding.

Starting with the outside pockets, he pulled out a small wad of cash, along with a few playing cards. He eyed them curiously, but didn’t think much of them. Setting them aside, he continued searching, finding only lint and a few old receipts in other pockets. Small purchases, it looked like. Logan set them with the growing pile beside Remy. One slightly heavy pocket revealed just what he thought he’d find: a small pocket knife. Well used, by the look of it. Logan put it in his own pocket; he’d much rather it stay with him.

As he reached inside the last interior pocket, he frowned as he found a folded piece of paper. He opened it up and tilted his head curiously at the message scrawled on it: _‘Usual, Friday, 9:30.’_ Unsure what it meant, he slowly put it back in Remy’s pocket, somehow feeling responsible of returning it to him. Because it made no goddamn sense, he told himself. But he had a feeling it was somehow significant to Remy. Whether that was happening this Friday or had already happened just the day before, Logan wasn’t sure. It didn’t even matter, really.

Looking at the small pile of miscellaneous things beside him, he sighed and started putting it all back into their respective pockets. None of it was of value. When he finished, he sat up, letting out a short breath. As a last minute decision, he reached back inside Remy’s pocket and tossed away a paperclip he’d earlier found, just in case.

Now came the fun part. He stood and grabbed the staff (how the hell did he expand it anyways? It certainly wasn’t collapsing back to the convenient condensed form for Logan) and walked back over to Remy, and knelt beside him again. Taking a deep breath, he reached down and lifted Remy up and took him over his good shoulder. Muttering a few more choice words under his breath, he stood against his muscles’ protests. Once he got up, it was much easier, though he knew he’d be feeling it in the morning. He kept to the darker streets as he walked back, not wanting to attract too much attention. Not only to himself, but to Remy as well; if he had people like Logan keeping an eye out for him, he had a feeling he wasn’t the most welcome man wherever he went.

It took a good twenty minutes, but he managed to make his way back to the hotel. He took an alternate entrance (he was sure dragging in a tied up body through the lobby wouldn’t be the smartest idea) and walked up the stairs to his room, unlocking the room with his card key and stepping inside.

He initially dropped Remy onto the bed, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him sleep there. Dragging a single chair from the opposite end of the room, he pulled it into an open space, away from any exits or anything remotely sharp. As soon as it was positioned where he wanted it, he pulled out the knife he’d confiscated from Remy, cut the zip ties, and removed his coat. He hung it with care (which he would not, under any circumstance, admit) by the door along with his own jacket. Finally, he took up Remy’s body again and dragged it over to the chair, setting him in it.

“It’ll have to do,” he murmured, walking over to the small bag he had sitting on the table, bringing it over. First, he grabbed a needle from a small pouch, pulling Remy’s sleeve back and testing the needle. A few drops collected at the tip. He turned the needle towards the crook of his elbow and inserted it, injecting him with a sedative. It would likely keep him out for anywhere between five and eight hours. After disposing of the used needle, he grabbed a small gauze pad and held it to the small puncture for a minute, then pulled the sleeve back down. He forced Remy’s ankles against the leg of the chair (he was absurdly tall, Logan realized after failing to get his long legs to line up with the chair) and put another pair of zip ties around them. Checking that he couldn’t slide them down over the foot of the chair, he moved on to his wrists. Once again, he used zip ties (one for each wrist) and stood to look Remy over. His head was hanging lifelessly, his long hair falling over his face.

He told himself that it was good enough, but again his gut was nagging him. How many times had Remy escaped? Too many to count. Reaching into the bag yet again with a long sigh, he pulled out a long rope – unconventional, but he couldn’t take any chances – and untangled it. He pushed Remy’s hair back out of his face, keeping it away from where he was working. At one point, after failing to keep it in one place, he dropped the rope and gathered his hair (surprisingly soft, he added idly) and let it fall over the back of the chair. He picked up the rope again and wrapped it three times around his chest, lining the rope where he elbows bent, then pulled the rope around the back of the chair, wanting him securely in place. Knotting it as best as he knew how, he tied it tight and eventually stood back, rounded the chair, and looked over his work. He wondered if there was some other way he could ensure him to stay put, but with hesitance, he left him the way he was.

Despite knowing that Remy was notorious for escaping – he was sure someone before him who had tried to capture him had done the very same thing before – he felt content with Remy’s current situation. For now, he had to rest. They had a long day tomorrow, and as much as he’d prefer leaving immediately, his body was exhausted. He shut off the lights, flopped back on the bed, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t too late, but he knew he’d wake up in five hours, regardless.

Closing his eyes, he sighed and let himself slip into sleep. He could only pray that Remy would be there in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been meaning to post this ever since I got interested in these two. This has been a looooooooooooong work in progress, but I'm finally getting somewhere with it. 
> 
> Forgive the shitty title and the fact that very little actually happens in this chapter expect tons of description and very little Remy/Logan interaction. NEXT CHAPTER. MORE TO HAPPEN. >_>


	2. Chapter 2

_Snap._

Logan stirred, turning on the bed. He settled a few moments later, drawing a deep breath, and was sleeping again once more.

_Snap._

Logan frowned, cracking one eye open. It was an odd sound, one he couldn’t place. The world around him was blurry and dark, and it was already tempting to just go right back to sleep. There were things to be done, he knew, but his motivation was incredibly lacking. In his half-asleep state, he was only managing to take in the basics: a look out the window told him that it was nearing dawn, and the clock read 5:12 am. He ought to wake up, but the bed was surprisingly comfortable. Before he could stop himself, his eyes were closing. He was asleep in moments.

… _Snap._

“Alright…” he muttered, and there was another snap. When he sat up, the sight that greeted him had him awake instantly.

The rope was in a pool on the floor in front of Remy’s feet. His hands were free and were now working on the bindings around his ankles. He remained sitting, but he was damned close to standing and – ultimately – escaping.

The icing on the cake was when Remy looked up after a moment, and grinned. “Mornin’, mon ami.”

“What… how did… you…” Logan rubbed his face then tore the blankets off of himself, striding right up to him. “How the hell did you do this?!”

“Remy broke de zip ties.” He shrugged casually, as if talking about the weather. He rubbed his wrists idly. “It ain’ dat hard. You don’ t’ink Remy ever been bound by dose t’ings befo’?”

Logan didn’t even have anything to say. He stood there, angry and tired and annoyed as hell. He was really starting to regret promising that he’d bring Remy back alive. “Look, I don’t know what you think this is, but you’re not getting out of here. You’re coming with me.”

“Dat’s nice an’ all, but if Remy can get outta dose zip ties and rope – which is _very_ old fashioned, Remy ain’ seen dat in a long time – what makes you t’ink he’s gonna take you seriously enough so dat you can take him wherever it is we goin’?”

“The reason is that I’m gonna kick your ass so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a good month, _that’s_ why you’re gonna take me seriously,” Logan said, poking his chest with his finger.

Remy hummed mockingly. “Dere are ot’er ways to keep Remy from walkin’ straight, y’know,” he said with a shrug. Logan decided to ignore it, despite the fact that his mind was going dangerous places very quickly.

“So, Monsieur Serious,” Remy said, leaning back casually in the chair, his legs spread obscenely, “how do you intend to take dis Cajun to wherever it is dat yo’ goin’?”

“That’s the last thing you need to know.”

“Well seein’ dat yo’ gon’ have to take Remy wit’ you, and since he also don’ feel quite fond o’ you injectin’ him wit’ whatever it was you stuck inside o’ him, he’d like it if he knew what was goin’ on.”

After a brief contemplation, Logan sighed, rolling his eyes. “My car. We’re taking my car.”

“Really? Remy gets car sick, an’ after dis, he don’ feel any reservations towards gettin’ yo’ precious car a lil’ dirty.”

“Oh, that so? ‘Cause I’ve got a hunch that you’re not exactly tellin’ the truth there. But, if you still feel that way, I wouldn’t mind not giving you any food at all.”

Remy stared him down for a long few moments, then with a quick movement that Logan’ didn’t quite catch, Remy broke the zip ties around his ankles and stood, stretching up and taking in a deep breath. “Well den,” he said, stepping around him and walking towards the door, “you de kidnapper, so you de buyer.” Before Logan could ask any questions, Remy held up Logan’s wallet between two fingers, smirking. He turned swiftly and walked towards the door, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. Logan opened his mouth to ask where the hell he’d gotten that from, but knew the argument was useless. With a sigh, he grabbed the room key and pushed past Remy, gritting his teeth when Remy called, “Oh, don’ be so huffy, mon cherie! A good meal will make dat grumpiness go right away!”

 

 

\--------------------

They ate at a small diner across the street (Remy was an endless pit, and Logan ended up paying for three meals instead of two), Remy talking on and on about anything that came to his mind, while Logan merely hummed and nodded every once in a while, his mind working on the best way to get him in the car. Of course, he had to go into the trunk, but zip ties were ineffective and the ropes didn’t work that well either. Logan had cuffs, which he figured would work for now, but he didn’t have any doubt that this guy would conjure up some secret key from some secret compartment in his shoe in order to get out. But... he looked at him for a moment, talking about something relating to New Orleans or Mardi Gras, watching his relaxed posture and his casual tone, not trying to get anyone’s attention in particular. It made him curious, wondering why this guy held such a casual attitude towards being kidnapped.

He figured he ought to appreciate it. Then again, he didn’t want to get too comfortable. After all, a night’s sleep almost led to his escape. There were going to be quite a few long nights ahead, but it was the price he paid for a good salary.

As soon as Remy was finished eating, they stood and Logan paid, keeping Remy within his sights at all times as they walked back across the street. Remy yawned and scratched his head, asking, “Do you t’ink dere’s time fo’ a shower?”

“You don’t need a shower, you’re fine,” he said.

“Aww, t’ank you,” Remy replied, bearing a shit-eating grin. “Remy likes bein’ told dat he’s fine.”

“Jesus, get over yourself,” Logan muttered.

“What? Remy can’ appreciate a compliment when it’s sent his way? After all, in a world dat ain’ to fond o’ dis Cajun, he takes all de positive energy he can get.”

“Great, so on top of you bein’ a thief and a damn pain in my ass, you’re also a hippie?”

Remy smirked, shrugging. “De higher spirits speak t’rough Remy, and dey tell him dat you ain’ had a good lay fo’ at least a year.”

Logan grumbled under his breath, grabbing his arm roughly and pulling him along. As soon as they got back to the room, Logan pushed him inside and slammed the door behind them, quickly gathering up his bags and throwing away the broken zip ties. He stuffed the rope away in one bag and pulled out the cuffs while he was at it, hefting the bags over his shoulders and grabbing Remy’s arm again. “We’re leaving,” he said roughly, and Remy didn’t say a word as Logan went to the front desk, returned, the key, and headed out the side door.

Logan threw the bags in the front seat and Remy moved to step in, only to have Logan stand in his way. Remy frowned, then sighed. “If you hadn’ noticed, Remy ain’ dat short, and he don’ t’ink yo’ trunk will be big enough fo’ him.”

“Well, we’re just gonna have to make that work, huh?” Logan opened the trunk and pulled out the cuffs. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Neit’er is Remy, so befo’ we go dis far, he has to ask… what’s our safe word?”

Logan stared at him for a long moment, but eventually didn’t even grace him with an answer. He cuffed him, making sure they were tight on his wrists, and gestured for him to get into the car. Remy looked around and sighed softly, stepping inside and curling up. It was definitely uncomfortable, and anyone who could have seen him would’ve been able to see it plain on his face. Logan paused, hesitating for only a moment, and finally moved to close the door.

“Wait!”

Logan stopped and lifted the hatch again, looking down at him. “What?!”

“Befo’ we get into dis… can Remy know de name o’ his captor?”

Logan looked down on him again, seeing the pleading look in his eyes. He knew it was a bad idea, a _terrible_ idea, but that look was already making him wonder…

“It’s none of your business.”

With that, the door was shut, and Remy was enclosed in darkness. He sighed and tried to stretch out a little, eventually curling again on his side and resting his cheek against the interior on the floor. The engine started and Remy closed his eyes, hoping he’d maybe be able to catch up on a little sleep. After all, what else was there that he could do?

 

 

\--------------------

After a steady five hours, Logan heard a solid ‘thump’ from inside his car. Having no doubt as to what it was, he ignored it and continued driving. Again, the noise arose, but Logan was determined to keep him waiting as long as possible. The noises continued for at least another ten minutes, during which Logan was gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and his vision was turning a faint shade of red. He was going to tough it out, though; there was no way he was going to give in to that bastard.

Remy kicked at the trunk again, cursing under his breath and pulling at the cuffs, obviously in vain. He raised his voice and called Logan every name in the book in French, wanting him to know just how he felt about him. He kicked at the door again and again, not relenting for a single moment, until finally he felt the car shift and he grinned, realizing that they were pulling off the road. He didn’t stop kicking however; now fueled with the idea that he had won him over, he kicked even harder and still cursed him, only stopping when the car came to a jolting halt. Remy adjusted and put on a sweet smile, waiting until the trunk was opened and the sun came shining in on him. Remy blinked only a few times, adjusting quickly enough. After all, he had his priorities.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Logan demanded, his expression enraged.

“You bought Remy two coffees dis mornin’,” he said simply. “Remy’s gotta go.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, feeling a migraine coming on. “You’ve got to be kidding me...”

“Well it’s eit’er you find a gas station wit’ a restroom, o’ Remy finds ot’er means o’ relievin’ himself…”

“For the love of Christ,” he muttered, looking around. Remy moved to sit up and look with him, but Logan reached inside. “No. Turn over.”

“Dis ain’ de place he imagined bein’ told dat by you,” he said, but did as he was told, turning so his hands faced out towards Logan. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the key and undid the handcuffs, stowing them away in his inner pocket in his jacket, tapping Remy’s shoulder to let him know he could get out. Taking his time, Remy let one leg out at a time, still sitting in the trunk as he stretched his legs out in the open air. Logan rested his hands on his hips and rolled hiseyes, waiting impatiently.

“Any time you’re ready, kid,” he said, making no effort to hide his annoyance.

“’Ey, you try an’ sit in a trunk fo’ hours on end and see how you feel.”

“Just get up.”

“Lift me?” Remy asked, extending a hand out towards him. Logan looked at the hand as if it were infecrted with some disease, not moving an inch.

“Lift your damn self outta there, I ain’t your valet or somethin’.”

“S’pose dat’s true, but it’d be de nice t’ing to do, non?” He waved his hand a little, putting on a small pout. “S'il vous plaît?”

Logan still didn’t move.

Remy rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, c’mon, Remy don’ bite.”

Knowing it’d be pointless to argue over this any longer, Logan finally caved, offering his hand to Remy and lifting him out of the trunk. Remy didn’t immediately let go of his hand, stepping in awfully close as soon as he was on his feet again. Flashing his gorgeous smile at him, he murmured, “Not _too_ hard, at least…” And quickly moved around him and strode towards the gas station Logan had parked at, looking back at him only once to send him a wink before walking inside. Logan let out a long, slow sigh.

This was going to be a long drive.

 

 

\--------------------

Remy was cuffed and back in the trunk after the brief break. He wasn’t happy about it of course and tried to convince Logan to let him stay up front (“Why can’ Remy stay up front? He’s been told dat he’s good company…”), but despite it, the door was closed and Logan was back on the road, companionless.

He didn’t get much farther than before; only a few more hours before there was a steady stream of kicking in the trunk. The sun was already setting as it was, and Logan was feeling hungry after the long drive. Besides, Remy probably wouldn’t mind another paid meal either.

When Logan neared the next city, he exited the freeway and entered a busy town, finding the first barbeque restaurant he caught sight of, he pulled over and parked in a shady place near the back of the lot (it wasn’t exactly common to see someone with a passenger stowed in their trunk). He killed the engine and got out, rounded the vehicle, and opened the trunk. With a huff, Remy turned over onto his side so his hands faced out towards Logan, but he heard no movement from the other man. “What’re you waitin’ fo’, Monsieur Serious?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What are _you_ waiting for?”

 Remy frowned and turned back over – which was becoming quite the tedious process, having to maneuver his body in the small space that the trunk provided. He looked up at Logan narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. “… Aren’ we getting’ somet’in’ to eat?”

“Yeah, _I_ am. What do you want?”

Remy’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious. After a moment, he quickly collected himself and shut his mouth. There wasn’t any way Remy was going to allow Logan to leave him in the fucking car while he got himself a decent meal and brought him back the leftovers. Remy had lived off of scraps long enough, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he was accepting any from this guy. Clearing his throat, he shifted around again, drawing his legs close and turning, moving so his legs could dangle out the back of the trunk while his body remained hunched over. He hated how he was forced to remain at his mercy. “Now, mon ami,” he started casually, forcing a light grin. “You don’ t’ink yo’ jus’ gon’ let Remy sit in de’ car while you go and get yo’self some food, do you?”

“Actually, I do. So hurry up and tell me what you want before I close the trunk, break your legs, and give you nothing to eat.”

“You _really_ don’ date much, do you? Dat ain’ a way to start a nice evenin’,” he said with a shrug and a grin, now taking some pleasure in irritating him. It worked, and Logan growled beneath his breath. But before Logan could say anything, Remy spoke up again. “What happened to de lovely meal we had dis mornin’? You didn’ have any problems takin’ Remy inside dat restaurant.”

“You talk too much,” Logan said simply.

“An’ you don’ talk enough. See? We complete each ot’er.”

“That’s not the point, Cajun,” he said with a long sigh.

“Oh? Den why bring it up? Now yo’ just hurtin’ poor Remy’s feelin’s.” He pouted, trying his damned hardest to at least have him consider letting him out.

Logan looked out towards the restaurant, contemplating it. Remy did have a point, and Logan wasn’t quite sure what made him want to take this kid out in public like that. He could’ve easily stood and shouted that Logan was kidnapping him or passed a tip on to someone who would do something. But he never did, just talked (a _lot_ ), and acted just like any other civilized person. Even if Logan felt like Remy wouldn’t act out again this time… he couldn’t take that chance. Remy was a threat. He probably didn’t say anything because he wasn’t exactly an innocent man in New Orleans. Being taken in for being a kidnapping victim would’ve only landed him a spot for being a world-renowned thief. Now that they were out of Remy’s home turf, though… things were different. Logan finally looked back at Remy, who appeared hopeful. Obviously, it wasn’t going to last. “You’re a risk. Get back inside.”

“What--?!”

“Get. Back. Inside.” Logan growled out, reached down and taking Remy’s legs in both hands before he could kick him or make a run for it somehow. Remy writhed in his grip and cursed at him again, nearly shouting before Logan could get the trunk closed. He managed it just in the nick of time, and with a quick look around, Logan sighed in relief. Nobody around.

Logan made sure the car was locked before going inside, his appetite growing at the smell of the food. Remy’s was too, but he’d have to wait much longer before he was given anything to eat.

While Logan was sat inside, Remy kicked at the trunk and pulled at the cuffs, shouting curses for at least ten minutes. He didn’t care how raw his voice became or his sore his feet were. He felt hopelessness falling over him and when his legs became tired and his wrists started to feel raw against the metal cuffs. His determination failed him, and with a heavy exhale, he stopped. His breathing was shaky and his heart was racing quickly, not only from all of his thrashing, but because of the realization that he was probably never going to get out of this. When Logan had first taken him, of course he was scared – he’d be a fool if he wasn’t. But he’d encountered a handful of guys like Logan, burly and strong and rough with a plan to take Remy in. Only one time did anyone ever successfully take him in, and Remy swore on his life that he would _never_ return to that hell.

Just at the thought of it, Remy had a flood of memories return to him, ones he’d meant to lock away forever. The rough hands on his skin, the deep cuts that left him scarred, and the sound of the voice that made him more terrified than death itself. Behind his back, his hands had balled into tight fists and he shook his head, willing the memories away. He’d sworn never to let someone take him like that again, never to get caught in a situation he couldn’t get out of. Last night with Logan was child’s play, but now, he was stuck. Here he was, being taken to some unknown location and being given to some unknown boss who was going to do god knows what to him. This time, there was no way out. The realization of it all made him feel completely alone, and despite the fact that he _had_ been alone for quite a few years now, the hard facts caught up with him and reminded him that he had no one in the world to go to. After his exile from his family… he was on his own, surviving for as long as he could.

Even though he was trapped right now, Logan was going to come back. He had to. But what would he do when he did? It took a moment for Remy to realize that he wasn’t even making any sort of plan for how to escape. While Logan overpowered Remy in strength, Remy himself had agility and a quick mind, able to calculate the best routes for getting away from trouble. Not to mention, if the moment called for it, Remy could deliver a solid blow. After all, Logan’s jaw was still a bit discolored after the mean right swing he’d delivered the night before.

Remy couldn’t help smiling, knowing that a part of him liked sticking around simply because Logan could be a great deal of entertainment. It was strange to think of it like that, but Remy had plenty of fun teasing Logan and making him as uncomfortable as possible. He wasn’t even a half-bad guy either; maybe a bit broody and sometimes bitchy, but he was alright.

Still… that didn’t excuse what he was doing. That didn’t make him a good person. The only thing keeping him calm now was the fact that Logan wouldn’t kill him. Logan didn’t use the gun – he could have, oh he _definitely_ could have – so that had to mean he was wanted alive. But for what? Who wanted him alive when there was a price for his head?

Remy felt his head start to throb and finally gave up thinking about it. It was too much to focus on now. Besides, he could tell it was getting later in the evening now; the trunk was getting cold, poorly insulated since it wasn’t exactly suited for carrying passengers. Remy curled up into a tighter call (it was all he could to) and tried not to shiver too much, wishing now that he was back home. If there was one thing he would never allow himself to forget, it was his life with his Papa. Remy could still remember everything vividly, from the first moment they met to when he had given him his first birthday present. He had selflessly taken Remy in under his wing, giving him a bed, a roof, and a place to call him. He taught Remy everything he knew, and though their time together wasn’t nearly as long as Remy could have hoped for it to be, Remy would never have traded the time they had for anything in the world.

However, all of that was gone now. Remy couldn’t turn back the clocks. He was on his own, and that was probably how it was going to be for a long, long time.

The trunk door opened suddenly and Remy jumped in surprise, instantly taken back from his memories. Blinking, he met Logan’s gaze, forgetting for a moment what they were doing here. In his left hand, Logan was holding a takeout box while the other made ‘turn over’ gesture. After a momentary pause, Remy did just what he wanted and soon the cuffs were undone. Logan seemed to notice something, because Remy could’ve sworn there was a brief brush of his hand against his wrist where the skin was likely red from pulling on the cuffs. As soon as his hands were freed, Remy snatched them away and brought them around to his front, turning and facing Logan, still laying inside the car.

“C’mon,” Logan said, taking a step back. When Remy didn’t move, Logan made a more impatient gesture for Remy to get out. Unsure but not willing to risk his meal, Remy decided not to question it and quickly got his legs out and lifted himself out of the truck. He only stumbled once or twice, his aching legs protesting at the sudden demand after being stuck in such a small space on his side for a solid day. He braced himself against the car but didn’t waste too much time regaining his balance. He couldn’t appear so weak in front of Logan. When he was finally standing tall again, Logan thrusted the takeout box towards him, stepping around Remy and shutting the trunk behind him. Remy looked at the trunk and then up at Logan, not getting a moment to ask what he was doing. Logan stepped into the car and started the engine, and for just a moment, Remy wondered if Logan was going to drive off and abandon him here. Of course, it wasn’t that simple.

The locks on the doors were switched, and that was a signal enough for Remy. He walked around to the passenger side door and cautiously stepped inside the car, closing the door behind him. The car was already warm, which Remy immediately cherished, and when Logan turned the heater on, it only took less than a minute for a steady stream of warm air to be blowing in his direction.

“You gonna eat anytime soon?” Logan suddenly asked, and Remy looked at him before realizing that he was still holding his unopened meal. Remy didn’t have high hopes for it. Probably scraps, something small, maybe a cheap meal that he got for a few bucks…

He opened the lid and stared down at the full meal. There were four ribs and a side of baked beans, complete with a roll (probably cornbread) and a small serving of coleslaw on the side. It all smelled amazing as soon as the lid was lifted, and Remy’s mouth was watering at the sight of it. He swallowed thickly and looked up at Logan in shock.

“If you spill any of that in my car, I’m sending you right back to the trunk.” Logan shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, surprising Remy. This had to be a one-time thing, though. Just so Remy could eat while Logan made up for lost time.

Trying not to think about it much more, Remy dug into the meal, taking a bite of the ribs and humming lowly at the explosion of flavor. The meat was incredibly savory with a sweet flavor from the sauce, and the juiciness of the meat almost made Remy ask to turn around and buy more. He licked his fingers clean and took a bite out of the roll, idly wishing he had something to drink. Of course, Logan could’ve brought him nothing at all, so he pushed it to the back of his mind. He tried to eat his meal in general silence, not wanting to irritate Logan much more.

But why did he care if Logan was irritated? It shouldn’t have mattered, right? Logan was his captor, and if that meant that he had to deal with some annoyances, then so be it. He signed up for the job, and he knew the risks. Remy chewing his food loudly and sucking on his fingers whenever he got sauce on them (which was quite often) just happened to be some of those.  

By the time Remy was taking the last bite of his roll, they had pulled up to a small, dingy looking motel. Remy frowned at it and sighed softly, but Logan apparently wasn’t thinking twice about it. In fact, he had gotten out of the car pretty fast without a single word. Remy closed the takeout box and scrambled after him, throwing the box away in a trash bin and following him inside.

Getting a room with one bed, Logan led the way up the stairs and opened the room with the keycard, letting Remy step inside first. After removing his coat and folding it carefully to set on the desk, he looked around the room idly and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking advantage of the far-more comfortable surface this time. Logan seemed busy doing whatever it was he was doing, so he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He could easily fall asleep like this…

Logan ignored him with a roll of his eyes, turning and searching for a good place for Remy to sleep against tonight. This time, Logan wasn’t that intent on sleeping, but he didn’t want to drive either. He’d sat in that damn car long enough, and there was no doubt that Remy would kick and shout until kingdom come. Unless Logan was determined to give himself another headache, he figured a good night’s rest would make tomorrow’s drive far more tolerable.

He sighed after scoping out the room. The only two places that would serve as a good and sturdy appliance to hook the cuffs around were on the bed and in the bathroom. Logan figured that Remy wouldn’t be entirely fond of sleeping in the bathroom (though it featured a full-length mirror, and he had a very strong feeling that Remy wouldn’t mind that one bit). Realizing what he’d have to do, he approached Remy’s motionless form, tightening one hand into a fist and knocking it against Remy’s leg a few times.

He murmured for a moment, turning on his side away from Logan. He growled beneath his breath and hit his leg harder, making him jolt awake, blinking rapidly and sitting up rather suddenly. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, looking at Logan. “Dere somet’in’ wrong?”

 “Yeah, you’re taking up the whole damn bed.”

Remy rolled his eyes and curled back up, waving him off. “Why don’ _you_ try sleepin’ on a chair fo’ a few hours an’ tell me how it goes.”

“Don’t even start with that.” Logan snapped. “Now get up.”

Remy sighed, dramatically flopping on his back. “But Remy don’ want to…” he whined, drawling out his words like a child. Logan clearly wasn’t amused by it.

“Get your lazy ass out of bed before I _drag_ you out,” he said through grit teeth, which was apparently enough to motivate Remy. He groaned and slid out of bed, standing slowly and brushing his hair back.

“Dere. Standing. Anyt’in’ else?”

“Give me your hand.”

Remy stared at Logan’s outstretched hand, frowning. “... Dat’s touchin’, but Remy’s gon’ have to pass.”

“Just… give it.”

“A ‘please’ would be nice, but Remy knows he’s got a snowball’s chance in hell wit’ you, so…” he gave Logan his hand, watching him carefully. His heart sank a bit when Logan reached into his jacket and withdrew the handcuffs, placing one cuff around his right wrist. He walked around Remy silently, pulling him by his hand and pulling his hand towards the bedpost. As soon as he looped the chain around the post, Remy kept his other hand outstretched as far away from Logan as possible – which, thanks to his much longer limbs, was a significant distance.

“This ain’t gonna be debated, kid,” Logan said in an irritated voice. “Give it up.”

“Remy t’inks dis counts as bondage, an’ Remy ain’ done anyt’in’ like dis in a while. Didn’ we already talk about havin’ a safe word?”

“Jesus, kid—”

“Really? Yo’ _really_ gon’ call Remy a kid after he told you he’s done bondage befo’?”

“Could you shut up for a single fucking mom—”

“Remy ain’ gon’ keep quiet fo’ him; people tell him it’s de reason dey come back fo’ anot’er good time, in fact.”

Logan opened his mouth – to say what, he didn’t even know, probably just shout a him or tell him to shut up again or maybe punch the living daylights out of him – but he restrained, closing his mouth and letting out a long, slow sigh. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“It don’ have to be; what’s de magic word?”

Logan deadpanned. “… Really?”

“Yo’ de one makin’ dis difficult. Jus’ say it.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t believe he had to do this. “… Please.”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Yo’ heart wasn’ really in dat one. Try again.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“It’s one word, it can’ be _dat_ hard, can it?!” Remy asked, the beginnings of a smirk on his face. Logan knew he was fucking with him – of _course_ he was – but he was taking complete and utter advantage of him now.

Gathering up whatever courage or patience or whatever else he needed to _not_ punch a hole in Remy, he bit the inside of his cheek, finally meeting Remy’s gaze. “Will you _please_ give me your hand…?”

Remy looked him over, taking his time in contemplating whether or not it was acceptable. Finally smirking, he said, “Now get down on one knee and ask it again. An’ don’ fo’get to tell Remy he’s pretty.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me—”

Remy laughed, stopping Logan in his tracks. “Remy’s jus’ playin’ wit you, Logan, here,” he said, giving Logan his hand. Logan took it after a short pause, having a suspicion that Remy would pull it away at the last second. He never did,  and as soon as his other hand was cuffed, Remy sighed, standing and looking at the cuffs. “So… safe word?”

“How about ‘fuck off’?”

“Dey’re generally only one word, an’ especially don’ involve words like dat.”

“Like what?”

“Fuck. It’s not exactly an uncommon word when yo’… well, fuckin’. Y’know, people will beg to be fucked, fucked harder, fucked faster, fucked—”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He waved his hand dismissively, pulling off his jacket and tossing it carelessly beside Remy’s. He walked over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp, then walking to the entrance and turning off the main light. Remy shifted on his feet, still standing awkwardly with his hands cuffed around the bedpost. He sat back on the bed and tried to lay down, his arms hanging off the mattress at an odd angle. He tried to reach over for a pillow to rest his head on – obviously, it didn’t work.

“Merde,” he muttered, pulling on the cuffs again. Remy winced slightly, his wrists still sore from pulling on the cuffs earlier. He didn’t let it show and looked over his shoulder, making sure Logan had been looking away. Despite him looking away now, it didn’t mean he hadn’t seen or heard him before then.

“You pullin’ on them isn’t gonna make them go away,” he said in a lower voice.

Remy scoffed. “Remy ain’ stupid, y’know.”

“Yeah, well you pullin’ on them all the time is tellin’ me otherwise.” Logan said.

With a huff, Remy flopped on his side again, now determined not to let Logan see his discomfort. He shifted a little, curling up then stretching out again, turning on his back and glaring up at the ceiling a little. Logan looked over at him and frowned, his eyes wandering over him slowly. Of course he was uncomfortable. How the hell could he be in any sort of comfort with one arm almost twisted backwards while the other was bent awkwardly by his side. Not to mention… his eyes slid lower and he subtly bit his lips. It shouldn’t have surprised him in the least to see Remy’s shirt riding up, while his jeans started to slip lower down his hips. The sharp bones were prominent, and the black shirt he wore teased whoever was looking with a slight peek at his lower abdominal muscles, tense at the moment. No doubt due to his position, of course. And lord, could Logan stare at that particular position all day and night.

Logan wasn’t even going to bother making excuses; like this, Remy was _gorgeous_ , and it almost bothered Logan to think that. _Almost._ Currently though, he was a bit occupied by the way Remy’s hips shifted a little and how his shirt fit over his frame, flaunting his every curve perfectly. Remy didn’t seem to give a single care that his appearance was bordering on obscene, but Logan certainly wasn’t complaining.

It probably didn’t occur to Logan that Remy had spared a look over at him after the long silence, saw that he was staring, and behind his arm, grinned.

He licked his lips and moved his hips again, shifting on the bed, his jeans sliding down a bit more, revealing more skin to Logan. He held back a laugh when Logan seemed to tense up a little, his mind franticly thinking of more he could do. He kicked off his shoes and drew his feet up so his legs were bent at the knees, spread wider than necessary, though when it came to Logan’s reactions, nothing was more than necessary.

Logan seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was caught up in and blinked, looking away and turning towards the nightstand, turning out the lamp without any notice. Remy’s grin instantly faded and he slowly let his legs lay flat against the bed again. He couldn’t figure out why he was so disappointed. Logan was just another guy, right? It shouldn’t have brought him down so much…

Letting it go, he turned on his side again, sighing softly and staring at the opposite wall. Maybe he was hoping for more from Logan. But what, exactly? The thoughts that followed didn’t settle with him – _especially_ given his current situation with Logan – and he quickly pushed them away. A fantasy, but nothing more. God, knowing him, he was developing some sort of kink for this.

Before falling asleep that night, Remy swore he felt something on the back of his head. He was probably imagining it. After all, he’s had a long day, and all he wanted was to dream of New Orleans, his home, and maybe his Papa, too.

When he woke the next morning, there was a pillow between his head and his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been seriously overdue, but I got massive motivation for this over the past few days, and it finally happened. I hope it's been worth the wait. <3


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